


Bleak

by TronKon



Series: Prolonged Exposure [2]
Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 12:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TronKon/pseuds/TronKon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick Grayson has gone missing. After two years Timothy Drake is tired of resting on his laurels and means to do something about it.</p>
<p>It's a decision that changes his life irreversibly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleak

Tim resisted the urge to rub his eyes. The fact he couldn't exactly pinpoint how long he'd been awake possibly spoke more for his exhaustion than anything else reasonably could.

 

Still though. He had work that couldn't wait for him to rest for two or three hours. Work that needed to be done _now_ while he still had momentum after patrol.

 

So he shook his head sharply, hoping the jarring motion would do at least something to help with his current state and swallowed a mouthful of stone cold coffee.

 

Dropping his hands back down to his notebook's keyboard, he resumed, beating out a staccato rhythm on the keys as he poured through endless streams of data that had been collected over the last month.

 

There _had_ to be something here. He'd chosen his pulls very carefully- he'd picked the systems and locations precisely.

 

People didn't just disappear without a trace. Not for _two years_.

 

Dick was here, somewhere in this data.

 

Tim just had to find out where.

 

He was forced to stop again as his eyes involuntarily unfocused and he held back a curse, scrubbing his forearm across his closed lids.

 

As usual- it wasn't enough.  His endurance, his body- it frequently failed him when he had most need of it.

 

Not out on patrol- never then. Adrenaline kept it going when his muscles failed. But now, at times like this- when he needed a kind of mental endurance, it eluded him.

 

Bruce could stay up for days if he needed to. However long it took to do what needed to be done.

 

Tim envied that quality. That ability to be unfailing. To have others seek you out as a first choice instead of a second.   
  
Instead of a replacement.

 

Rubbing his eyes again, this time with the heels of his hands, Tim pushed back from the desk. His train of thought was so derailed at this point that with that and his sleep deprivation, he knew he wouldn't be getting any more work done tonight.

 

But just as he was turning his body away, he caught sight of one single item in lines and lines of information on the screen. A codeword- Tim quickly pulled himself closer to the desk again. He'd go- soon. After he looked into this a little bit more.

 

_Codeword Chill_.

 

It seemed as if the codeword was attached to a League operation. Heavily classified- no surprise.

 

Tim suspected that _grocery shopping_ in the league of assassins was highly classified.

 

Tim was just starting to pull out details of the operation when he felt a tell tale rush of air and a large, warm hand rested on the back of his neck.

 

Tim sighed, hands stilling for the second time in as many minutes.

 

"Kon-"

 

"Hey man-" The meta interrupted, voice smooth and warm as his hands. "You're pretty wiped."

 

"How do you figure?"

 

"If I told you the signs, you'd just cover 'em up next time."

 

_Well_ Tim couldn't exactly argue with _that_.

 

He sighed again.

 

Kon seemed to take this as agreement, because he took the opportunity to turn the chair around and dutifully began working on dismantling the labyrinth-like puzzle that was Tim's Red Robin uniform. Tim was presented with an up close and personal view of the meta’s chest, a simple cotton t-shirt stretched across it. Kon must have come straight from the farm, sans S Shield.

 

Kon was probably the only one besides Tim who knew how to strip him off without setting off any of the triggers inlaid, and he’d learned it through careful practice and more than a few mistakes.

 

Tim let his mind wander as Kon worked, finding the familiar feeling of his boyfriend's hands on him was better than any muscle relaxant. While Tim loved Kon’s TTK, and all the many wonderful things it could do, Kon’s big, broad, warm hands were his real weakness. And it was a weakness that Kon tended to capitalize on when the situation called for it.

 

But- then Kon was picking him up and Tim's head was lolling against his shoulder. He’d lost track of time and was a little surprised to find that his uniform littered the floor. He hadn’t been mentally present for most of it’s removal. Even now, cradled in his boyfriend’s arms, Tim felt a curious sense of distance between his mind and body.

 

As Kon settled him into bed, he started rubbing his side firmly up and down in an effort to soothe him to sleep.   
  
Sometimes Tim wondered what it was that brought Kon up from Kansas. Tim had his trackers, he had his data- Tim thought, then rethought, then _over_ thought everything. It was how he knew what was going on with the people he cared about. He usually had at least two trackers on Kon, and a few cameras around the Kent residence. Kon let them be because he knew that Tim would be a mess without them.  
  
But Tim never knew _exactly_ what it was that Kon was watching that sent him running whenever Tim was on the edge of exhaustion with no plans to pull back from that precipice.

  
And Tim didn’t ask because he knew himself. At some delirious point he’d decide whatever sign it was was a sign of weakness, and train himself out of it.  
  
And Kon would stop coming when he needed him to.  
  
Pressing his face into the soft, cheap cotton of Kon’s shirt, he felt the meta wrap one strong arm around him.  
  
And then he felt nothing as he slipped into unconsciousness.   
  
______  
  
It was a week later in that very same room, that Tim came to the decision.

 

He'd weighed the pros and cons, scrutinized the data- and logically deduced what the best course of actions was.

He'd started looking into the League because of an operation named Chill. But the more information he gathered, the more he realized how much information he _couldn't_ gather from his computer desk, or even from a few covert missions to gather intel.

 

It started with Chill, but Tim's decision ended with the other possible benefits.

 

The League- and Ra's were a constant problem. So much could be gained, and _prevented_ by having someone on the _inside_.

 

And Ra's had been showing a vested interest in some sort of collaboration with Tim. So if he were caught he knew with only a very small margin of error that Ra's would play with him just long enough for Tim to find an out.

 

Ra's had eyes where Tim was blind. Connections that went beyond hacking and surveillance. After all, not everyone recorded details so faithfully as Batman had taught his brood to do.

 

But making the decision to leave for an indeterminate amount of time was not even the hardest part.

 

The hardest part was going to be telling everyone who needed to know and shutting out the rest.

 

Bruce had not been a hard sell. Tim knew how to present a project to Bruce. A well written and thoroughly researched report and presentation. Sufficiently informed answers to any questions.

 

Easy. Nothing emotional.

 

But- but.

 

Kon had to know too.

 

And that wasn't nearly as easy. Kon was all _emotions_ \- not exactly Tim's strongest suit on the best of days.

 

Kon's heart, and his tendency to think with it was one of the things that Tim found attractive about him.

 

But it was also the reason he didn't think the meta would respond particularly favourably to his proposal.

 

Even now, with Kon sitting on his bed, watching him work with a lopsided grin he tended to adopt when Tim begged for a few more minutes to finish a report or briefing- Tim's tongue felt like lead in his mouth.

 

It was even worse if Tim allowed himself to think in terms of time instead of in terms of the mission. It might be a long time. _Months_ \- even longer than that maybe.

 

Tim, for all his obsessive fascination with order and diplomacy _was_ human. Even though he needed to be reminded of that fact on occasion.

 

He was proposing going in to a hostile situation without any sort of support system in place for an extended period of time. From a mental health standpoint it wasn’t really the best idea.

 

But even more pressing than that was that he would miss _Kon_.

 

It was a startling realization that Tim wasn't able to compartmentalize before Kon saw it on his face.

 

Startling because Tim had not allowed himself to think in terms of attachment when planning and deciding on this. He'd separated the mission and his personal feelings _completely_.

 

"Hey-" Kon's voice was muffled in that way it tended to be when he bit the inside of his cheek and talked through it. "Is something up?"

 

Tim glanced over. Kon was sitting up against the headboard of his bed, arms pillowed behind his head, with a quizzical expression on his face.

 

His first reaction was to respond with his standard phrase, but he bit back the words 'I'm fine' before they had a chance to tumble from his mouth.

 

"I've got a difficult mission coming up." He said instead, spinning in his chair to face Kon fully.

 

"Ehn?" Was Kon's elegant reply, and he scratched the side of his face, looking thoughtful. "Geeze man, I've heard you describe nuclear winter as a day in the park. Now you've got me worried." Kon's eyes were earnest. "Anything I can help with?"

 

Tim paused. Kon's undercover skills were... Non-existent.

 

Still. "Maybe." He hedged, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his leather office chair. "You've always been good at extraction-"

 

Kon's face lit up in a bright grin and he laughed, big and deep. "Aw, yeah. 'Course! Just whistle for me Rob, and I'll come running, just like always."

 

A small twitch of a smile tugged the corner of Tim's lips. “Well that isn’t what I meant, exactly.” Getting up from his chair, Tim traversed the room, sliding onto the bed next to Kon, boots still on. “It’s an undercover thing. League of Assassins related.”

 

Kon hummed understanding, dropping one of his arms to drape it across Tim’s shoulders, heavy and warm. “So, what, you’re going to crash another of Ra’s Al Ghul’s bases, huh?”   
  
“Kind of. I’m going to have to blend in.” Tim paused before going on in a forced light tone. “Don’t know how long it’ll take though.”

 

Kon stilled for a moment, turning his head to glance at Tim. “So you’re telling me you’re running away to become a Ninja?”  
  
Tim scoffed. Kon certainly had a way of turning a serious situation on it’s head. “No- I told you, it’s _under cover._ ”   
  
“So you’re running away to become a pretend-ninja.”

 

“Well- yes.” Sighing in defeat, Tim carded a hand through his own hair. “Yes, that is what I am saying.”   
  
“And you don’t know how long it’ll take?” Tim couldn’t help but notice that the meta’s voice had lost a bit of it’s humour. “Does that mean like- you don’t know how long it’s going to take like weeks... or... longer?”  
  
Tim carefully considered his answer. “Knowing Ra’s and the League? Probably longer.”

 

Kon’s face became shuttered, a frown pulling down his lips. “Jesus- that sucks. Like-” He made a vague gesture that was clearly meant to illustrate something he couldn’t verbalize right then. “A lot. It sucks a lot.”

 

Tim quirked a small, apologetic smile, even though he felt that ache in his chest. That ache that only seemed to show up when he knew he was disappointing someone. It seemed like sometimes, when he really focused on it, his life was an exercise in disappointing people he cared about.  
  
Today wasn’t going to be any sort of exception to that.

 

Kon seemed upset, yes. Tim could see it in the lines of his face and the tilt of his head. But he also seemed concerned. Wary, the more he looked to be thinking about it.

 

“I don’t know, Tim. I don’t like it. I just don’t.” His voice had an edge to it. A tone that was more than just a sulk over separation.

 

“I’ll be careful Kon.” Tim soothed. But his voice sounded wrong and flat to his ears. Dick would have known just the right pitch and tone and words to use- but, Tim reminded himself solidly- Dick was _not here._ Tim had to do his best with what he had.

 

“It’s not about that.” Kon tried again, obviously frustrated over his inability to articulate. “That guy- Ra’s- he’s _creepy_. The stuff he’s already done- he’s _obsessed_ with you. I don’t want to- I don’t want you to be in a position, you know? For him to-” another frustrated pause- “I just wouldn’t put anything past him is all.”

 

“I can handle Ra’s, Kon.” Tim gently smoothed a hand down Kon’s arm, elbow to wrist.

 

“I don’t know how you can be so calm about this type of stuff.” Kon admitted, and Tim felt the whisper of his TTK on the side of his throat. “Last time you really got into it with Ra’s, he sent his daughter to try and _rape_ you- and then acted like you shoulda taken it as a _compliment._ ” Tim felt Kon repress a shudder. “Seriously messed up.”

 

It wasn't a pleasant memory for Tim either- it had been a shock in an otherwise carefully laid plan. Still, talking about the unsettling nature of the incident wasn't going to do any good in gentling Kon to the idea of Tim going in to the League with virtually no backup.

 

So Tim agreed. "It was- but I don't think Ra's will send his daughter after me again. The man never tries the same thing twice. That's the only thing I can trust when it comes to him."

 

"So what?" Kon's voice was dark with worry. "Next time he sends someone else- or hell- goes for it himself." The teen sighed, and Tim felt Conner shifting his weight beside him. "I'm not saying you can't take care of yourself or anything- I know you could break any finger he put in your orbit- doesn't mean I like the idea of a senior citizen perving on you."

 

This time it was Tim’s turn to hum a response, turning Kon’s words over in his mind. “Why does it bother you so much?” Tim was warm- Conner had started with his hands again, stroking his side and making Tim’s skin hum.

 

Conner bit off a laugh that Tim was happy to note didn’t sound bitter or forced. “Well- _because._ You’re my boyfriend Tim. That’s just what boyfriends do. You’re mine. In case anyone forgets, I’m more than happy to remind them.”

 

The words were casual- filled with the easy candor that seemed to roll off Conner in waves. But Tim felt a small hitch in his chest. A slight tightening. And it wasn’t a pleasant sort of tensing- the kind he tended to get when Conner said something unexpectedly wonderful. It was guilt, pure, simple, and dark enough to turn his expression sombre.

 

And that guilt stemmed from the pure and simple fact that what Conner seemed to take as a given truth, Tim had never even given much thought to. If Cass had not been on the mission with him during that fateful incident, and it would have been more conducive to allow what was attempted to transpire, Tim has no doubt that he would have let it.   
  
For the mission, and without hesitation.   
  
Because for Tim, his body was a tool. When he was working, he would use it in any means necessary to secure a victory.

 

And for Conner, that very thought was a betrayal.

 

Tim tucked himself closer against the warmth of Kon’s side, closing his eyes tightly, if briefly.

 

And if Conner noticed Tim’s sudden disinclination towards discussion he made no mention.

 

They fettered away the afternoon on trivial activities and discussion, careful not to stray too close to the elephant in the room.

 

Two weeks later, after carefully planning his latest and most isolated operation, Tim sent Conner a careful, concise email ending their relationship.

 

He was untraceable by the time Conner read it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and happy new year darlings! I've been fiddling with this a bit too long and therefore present to you the next installment of this little series. As you may have noticed we've jumped back a fair ways. I hope you will all be patient, and I hope you all enjoy a bit of Tim Drake, because while the last story focused on Damian's perspective of events, this one will be told from Tim's point of view. 
> 
> I struggled a bit with whether I could just allude to the events of this story in Chill and just carry on in that manner, but found myself thinking it would be more meaningful to show instead of tell. I hope you all enjoy this little prelude. It promises to be a bit shorter then Chill.


End file.
